


i know you like it better

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Brief Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Getting Back Together, M/M, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, emotional validation, emotions are the actual WORST, instead of porn with feelings, it's feelings with a dash of porn :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: “Oh,” says The New Guy, when he sees Keith. “Uh... hi.”Keith is promptly very busy trying not to have a heart attack, while also trying to conceal the fact that he’s trying not to have a heart attack. “Hey, I’m Keith,” he says, then immediately wants to smack himself. Pretending he doesn’t know him?Real mature, he scolds himself.“I’m Shiro,” The Guy says, apparently deciding to play along before Keith can change his mind. Or—and the second idea is somehow worse—maybe Shiro really doesn’t remember Keith. It’s been four years, after all. Four years since—[or: There’s a new guy at work, and Keith is supposed to train him. Problem is, the new guy is an old flame, and Keith has no idea how to cope.]
Relationships: Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 105





	i know you like it better

The job at Altea Market is a stroke of luck. The owner, Allura, is the first who actually cares about work-life balance, healthcare benefits, and all the other shit Keith’s previous employers had considered optional. His coworkers are cool, too—although Keith isn’t normally a huge fan of other people, he has to admit his trainer introducing herself as “the produce elf” on day one was awfully endearing. Not to mention the master baker slipping him a bag of outdated pastries at the end of Keith’s shift.

Keith mostly ends up stocking the frozen and dairy sections, because produce alone takes up most of Pidge’s time. Months pass, and Keith is feeling very comfortable in his daily routine by the time he walks in one day, only to get pulled aside by Pidge. “There’s a new guy waiting in the break room,” she informs him. “You can show him the ropes, right?”

“Sure, no problem.” Keith will appreciate extra help today—there’s a backlog of freezer pallets, and he needs to clear them before the next delivery. He punches in, stows his bag in his locker, and heads into the break room to pick up his charge.

“Oh,” says The New Guy, when he sees Keith. “Uh... hi.”

Keith is promptly very busy trying not to have a heart attack, while also trying to conceal the fact that he’s trying not to have a heart attack. “Hey, I’m Keith,” he says, then immediately wants to smack himself. Pretending he doesn’t know him? _Real mature_ , he scolds himself.

“I’m Shiro,” The Guy says, apparently deciding to play along before Keith can change his mind. Or—and the second idea is somehow worse—maybe Shiro really doesn’t remember Keith. It’s been four years, after all. Four years since—

No, Keith doesn’t want to think about it right now. Can’t think about it. Gotta be professional. “I’ll be showing you around today,” Keith says, slapping on his best Utterly Professional Trainer voice. “So, uh, let’s go get started.”

Keith feels a little bad for how quickly he rushes through explaining the basics, but Shiro keeps nodding like he gets it, and besides, he can always come find Keith if he has questions later, right? Keith just needs to get him set up with a pallet and a few aisles to stock, far away from the aisles Keith will be working in, and the day should go just fine.

A couple hours later, Pidge swings by. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, he’s fine. I think.” Keith fidgets with his box cutter, clicking the blade in and out. “I mean, he hasn’t asked me anything yet.”

Pidge’s eyebrows do the Thing, which Keith should have expected. He steels himself for a little friendly interrogation. “You haven’t checked on him?”

“Um. It’s just...” He can’t meet her eyes.

“Keith. Talk to me, dude. What’s wrong?”

“Not here,” he hisses. “He’s like two aisles over.”

She grabs his upper arm and pulls. “Come on.”

The produce cooler is Pidge’s favorite place for secret conversations. They’ve traded plenty of gossip in here already, though Keith is not used to being the subject of said gossip.

“Okay, spill,” Pidge orders, once the door is shut.

Keith folds his arms against the chilly air. “You can’t repeat it to anyone.”

“On my honor,” she swears.

“Shiro and I… have some history,” Keith says. “Back in college, I uh, hooked up with him? Like... a lot.”

“Okay,” Pidge says. “So, messy breakup?”

“We weren’t dating!” Keith protests. Pidge’s eyebrows do the Thing again; he keeps talking to ward her off. “It was just casual. And then... I don’t know. I freaked out, I guess. I ghosted him, okay? And I still feel like shit about it. I don’t know why I did it. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Pidge whistles. “Oof.”

“Yeah. I... had a lot of firsts with him, but then I started feeling really weird.” Keith’s laugh is pained. “Maybe my problem was that he did the most important things _right_.”

“Have you talked to him about it at all?”

“I didn’t even let him know I recognized him.”

“Keith!”

“I know,” he moans. “It’s just, that man has seen my entire ass.”

“Well,” Pidge reasons, “you’ve seen his entire dick.”

“Oddly enough, that does make me feel a little better."

“So do you think you can make it through the rest of your shift? I can take over if you’re willing to unload approximately ten thousand cases of bananas.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” says Keith, who wants nothing to do with that many bananas.

And he is fine, somehow. Shiro only asks for assistance a couple of times, and near the end of the day, there’s a helpful distraction in the form of Allura gliding into the aisle where Shiro is helping Keith rotate gallons of milk. (How she manages to glide in khaki pants and work boots, Keith does not know. It’s just part of her magic.)

“Good evening, Shiro,” Allura says. “Nice to see you again. Getting settled in?”

“Yeah, Keith’s a great trainer,” Shiro says, which is a gigantic lie considering that Keith has been trying _not_ to talk to him. “I’m happy to be here.”

When they’re finished with the milk, they head to the time clock. After punching out, Shiro gives Keith a little wave. “See you tomorrow, Keith. Thanks for helping me today.”

Keith doesn’t feel like he actually did very much, but he waves back anyway. “Yeah, of course. See you tomorrow.”

For the next few weeks, Keith mostly tries to ignore Shiro. Shiro’s fine, anyway—he’s instantly beloved by the team, who have no idea that Keith is avoiding Shiro as much as possible.

But then Shiro and Keith get assigned to a night shift together to reset all the dairy coolers, alone in the store except for Allura in her office and the cashiers way up at the front of the store. It’ll be fine, Keith reassures himself. Resets are tedious and require concentration to match shelf labels to the right sections. He and Shiro probably won’t even talk much tonight.

Except Shiro picks now to bring IT up.

“Hey, sorry if this is weird, but—do you remember me, or...”

Keith’s stomach drops. Shiro must see the panic on his face, because:

“Sorry, man.” Shiro looks away with an awkward laugh. “You don’t have to answer that. I get it.”

“No, I—it—you. Fuck.” Keith hangs his head. “It was gonna come up eventually. Yeah, I remember you. Um, sorry for... everything...” For disappearing with no explanation? For acting so weird the last couple of weeks? For refusing to acknowledge that he even recognized Shiro? Keith isn’t sure anymore, but he’s trying to cover all of it.

Shiro holds up his hands and takes a step back. “Hey, no, I apologize for mentioning it. We can just work. It’s cool, I swear, I was just gonna let you know I’m not upset at you.”

“I just didn’t know what to say.” Keith lifts his head and bravely sneaks a glance at Shiro. Somehow, his gray eyes are still soft and gentle. “Then or now.”

Shiro considers him for a moment. The only sound is the hum of the coolers. Keith hopes he’s not visibly trembling.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro asks.

“...Kinda, yeah.”

“How about after work? If you want.”

It’s not a date. Keith makes that clear from the get-go as they’re walking outside after their shift.

“Of course not,” Shiro assures him. “I’m not trying to pull anything on you.”

That’s how they end up at the tiny diner across the street, ordering off its all-night breakfast menu and sliding into opposite sides of a booth. Its window looks out over the diner’s parking lot, which contains absolutely nothing of interest, yet Keith keeps his attention firmly fixed on the cracked pavement until their food arrives.

But Shiro’s got this way about him that soothes Keith’s anxiety. There’s no judgement or anger in his tone, and they trade stories of post-graduation woes, until Keith remembers something: “Hey, I thought you were gonna go to flight school. What are you doing in a grocery store of all places?”

Shiro’s lips twitch in a tiny smile, and his eyes glint in a way that’s too familiar to Keith, given how long it’s been since they last had a real conversation. He pushes up his right shirtsleeve, revealing a limb made entirely of metal, but for the perfectly realistic-looking hand. “Well, you might say I lost a wing?”

“Oh,” Keith says faintly. He runs through a list of possible responses: _Sorry, I didn’t notice; what happened to your_ —no, definitely not that one—but before he can decide, Shiro interrupts.

“I can see you freaking out. It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Keith admits. That seems to be a common problem of his.

Shiro shrugs. “Don’t have to say anything. I’m just me. Albeit a little more bionic than the last time we saw each other.”

The last time. Keith’s heart skips a beat. It had been in Shiro’s apartment, and oh, the way Shiro had looked at him—

Keith pushes his plate of pancakes away. His stomach is starting to hurt, the same way it did that night four years ago, but this time he knows himself better. “I should have talked to you,” he says. “I got scared, and I still don’t understand why, but I wish I had told you how I was feeling. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no _should_.” Shiro holds his gaze. “You didn’t know how to talk about it, and maybe you weren’t sure you could trust me with it. I won’t pretend I didn’t miss the hell out of you, but I’m glad you did what was best for yourself.”

“You missed me?” In all the scenarios Keith has imagined, this wasn’t one of them.

“Of course. I thought we clicked really well, you know? I liked being around you.”

“But we weren’t even—anything. Officially, I mean.”

“I know. I cared about you, though. I’m really happy you’re doing okay.”

The conversation slides into casual chat about work, upcoming weekend plans, and other mundane subjects, like a silent mutual agreement that whatever happened between them, it’s in the past and they can move forward now. Though he’s still shaky from trying to talk about it at all, Keith does feel relieved to know Shiro isn’t angry.

When Keith checks his phone next, it’s three a.m. and they both remember they have work in the morning. “Don’t you live kinda far away?” Keith asks.

“Eh, twenty minutes or so.” Shiro yawns. He looks beat—they may have finished their project in one night, but they were moving at top speed to do it.

“I feel bad I kept you out so late,” Keith says. That’s what he’s telling himself as he says his next words: “Do you wanna crash at my place? I’m just around the corner.”

Shiro gratefully accepts, and after they pay for their meal (Keith insists on splitting the bill), he drives them both to Keith’s apartment in his black pickup.

Inside, Keith looks Shiro up and down (not like _that_ , he swears) and then looks at his tiny couch. “You can take the bed,” he offers.

Shiro returns the look up and down while Keith tries in vain not to blush. "I don't mind sharing if you don't," Shiro says. "You need to be able to stretch out after a job like ours, and we're just here to sleep. Right?"

"Right," Keith agrees quickly.

They end up in bed in their t-shirts and shorts, & Keith has never been more grateful that he sprang for a king-size mattress. At least they aren't crushed up against each other. The next morning, Shiro drives them to work, which Keith doesn’t think twice about until he sees _Pidge_ see them pull up, her eyes going wide. But he keeps his face deadpan, because he can’t let Shiro know that _she_ knows.

Pidge corners him again within ten minutes. Keith vows to start avoiding the produce cooler, because this is becoming a habit of hers. "You live three blocks away," she says. "Did he pick you up?"

Keith doesn't bother lying, but Pidge’s eyebrow rises when he insists they didn't do anything but sleep.

"And how are you feeling about him today?" she wants to know.

"...It was nice to catch up."

"Yeah?"

"And I'm kinda remembering why I liked him so much."

Having gotten it all out in the open, Keith finally relaxes around Shiro. They sit next to each other on breaks, playfully bump shoulders when passing in the aisles, and sometimes Shiro's arm ends up around Keith's shoulder for a couple of seconds. It's just a little hug, Keith reasons. Nothing to read into.

One day, they're in the dairy cooler alone, trying to break down a huge pallet of milk that's taller than Shiro and leaning dangerously to the side. One corner of the crates starts to collapse, but Shiro springs forward and throws his whole weight against it, muscles straining under his henley. Somehow, the two of them manage to save the pallet from total catastrophe.

“Fuck,” Keith gasps. "I could kiss you for that!"

Shiro tosses him a little smirk. "Wouldn't complain if you did."

Their eyes lock.

Keith's mouth parts. Nothing comes out. He's trembling, and it's not because of the cold. Cautiously, he takes a step forward, then another, right into Shiro's space, and tilts his face up. Shiro looks like he doesn't quite believe what's happening. "Come down here then," Keith whispers.

Shiro grabs Keith’s shoulders and crushes his mouth against Keith's, backing him up against the cooler wall. Their panting breath comes in clouds, and despite his anxiety since Shiro appeared, being pinned between Shiro and the wall doesn't make Keith feel the least bit trapped. Shiro’s fucking thigh is between Keith’s legs; he can’t help squirming against it. Shiro mumbles something that sounds like “ _oh, fuck_ ” and Keith is this close to breaking several employee conduct guidelines when Pidge’s voice crackles over the radio.

“Guys? How’s the pallet coming? Do you need any help?”

Keith jerks away from Shiro, fumbling for his radio, imagining Pidge catching them rumpled and flushed and obviously up to something. “No!” he tells her, hoping he doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels. They have to keep working after that, occasionally shooting each other burning glances.

Shiro comes over again after work, and they barely last five minutes before they're falling into Keith's bed, hands all over each other.

"Should we maybe talk about this?" Shiro asks as he's palming Keith's dick through his jeans.

"Later," Keith gasps. "Later, fuck, _please_."

There follows an eternity of panting kisses and Shiro’s big hands smoothing over Keith’s bare skin, with Keith’s mind focused on one thing only: getting Shiro inside of him, _now_. Finally he feels the head of Shiro’s slicked-up cock teasing him, and he takes a deep breath, readying himself—

“Tell me you want it,” Shiro murmurs low in his ear.

“Ahh—” He wants it so bad he’s on the verge of screaming. And Shiro wants him to _speak_?

Shiro kisses his jaw, soft and sweet. “Say it, Keith. You can do it.”

“I—” Keith squirms, working up all his courage. _Tell the truth_ , he urges himself. “I need it.”

“Good,” Shiro whispers, and then he’s easing into Keith, slow and relentless. When Keith feels Shiro’s hips meet his own, Shiro presses his forehead to Keith’s. “Fuck. You feel so…” His breath comes in short pants. “Give me a sec.”

Keith nearly loses it right then and there, but he calms himself by petting the back of Shiro’s head instead, running his fingers through the short, soft fuzz of Shiro’s undercut until Shiro has settled down.

Shiro pulls back then, looking down at where his body joins Keith’s. “Do you have any idea how hot you are?” he asks, drawing a fingertip in a devastating circle around Keith’s rim.

“Will you. Please. Shut up and fuck me,” Keith gasps, all pretense of self-control vaporizing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you,” Shiro promises, finally starting to move in him. “But I know you like it better when I don’t shut up.”

Shiro keeps them face to face, almost snarling in Keith’s ear as he pounds into him—wondering aloud at Keith’s beautiful sounds, at his perfect little hole; saying all the things that always got Keith off before… and still do.

Keith comes with his head turned away and his eyes squeezed shut, unable to hold Shiro’s gaze any longer. But Shiro doesn’t comment on it; just fucks Keith through it, his movements slow and gentle, groaning when he spills inside Keith.

It’s been a long time since Keith _snuggled_ someone after sex, but it’s strangely easy to pull the sheets over himself and Shiro, and to let Shiro just… hold him.

“Too soon to talk?” Shiro asks in a soft voice.

Keith knows Shiro would wait if he wanted to… but Keith has waited so long already. “No, we can talk.”

“What do you want to happen now?”

“I don’t know,” Keith answers honestly. “But I don’t want to run this time.” He takes a deep breath, hoping he isn’t about to break Shiro’s heart or something. “I still don’t know if I can handle being anything…officially.”

Shiro presses a kiss to the back of Keith’s neck. “I can work with that. I know I like being around you. Don’t need a label for it.”

“Maybe we could go out after work again sometime,” Keith hedges. “And… maybe it could be a date?”

“I would definitely enjoy maybe going on a date with you.”

Keith can hear the smile in Shiro’s tone. “You’re teasing me,” he complains playfully.

“Only because you like it.”

Keith nestles just a little closer. “Yeah,” he says. “I really, really do.”


End file.
